


The End of the Road

by gingerfic



Category: Glee
Genre: Alaska, Bears, Canon Compliant, Fishing, Humor, Innuendo, Klaine, M/M, Married Life, Post-Canon, Road Trip, klaineroadtrip2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerfic/pseuds/gingerfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of their epic North American road trip, newlyweds Kurt and Blaine reach the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska. They are determined to have an authentic local experience, but it's not all as simple as it looks.</p><p>Stop # 22</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the Road

Last night Kurt and Blaine had arrived in Homer, Alaska after nearly six days of driving through Canada. Kurt was pretty sure that the highlight of the AlCan (Alaska-Canada Highway) was the [ weathervane made from an airplane in Whitehorse ](http://www.tripadvisor.com/LocationPhotoDirectLink-g155047-d319328-i44584639-Yukon_Transportation_Museum-Whitehorse_Yukon.html).

“Nope,” Blaine had corrected him. “The highlight of this is that the two thousand miles of road are actually paved now. It was the 1990s before they got that done.”

“Some of it needs repaving,” Kurt had grumbled as they had bounced out of an enormous pothole, just to land in another.

Since they knew little about this state, they had stopped for the night in Anchorage before going any further. In the morning they talked with their hotel concierge about options, and she recommended that if they wanted the ultimate Alaskan experience they needed to drive four more hours down the Kenai Peninsula to Homer. Homer had the claim to fame of being the “end of the road,” or the farthest part of the continent that a person could drive to. There was even a resort and restaurant at the very tip of the town called _Land’s End_ , and by all accounts it was pretty swanky for a town of fewer than five thousand people.

Although they had seen natural wonders across the continent by this point, they were still overwhelmed by the beauty of the Kenai Peninsula as they made their way down the single highway. Little lakes and glacier blue rivers streaked between the road and the sharp mountain ridges, and fireweed and other wild flowers filled meadows and tumbled into the ditches at the roadsides.

During the last hour of the drive they found themselves driving along a high bluff that overlooked Cook Inlet and the chain of snow-capped volcanoes that reigned on the other side of it.

As if that were not impressive enough, just as the GPS indicated that they were within minutes of Homer, they were met with the [ expansive view across Kachemak Bay ](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BznJdi0QE5O0NmdkbkwtVVA4b3VfeS1QV0VyZTM2UVQ0elR3/view) as the road took a sharp turn to the left and started down a long hill.

 

“That is stunning,” Kurt whispered in awe.

Blaine glanced over for as long as he dared before forcing himself to watch the road again. “It almost makes you want to stay here forever, doesn’t it?”

“If it weren’t for the fact that this is the absolute middle of nowhere,” Kurt breathed, “yeah.”

 

* * *

 

They ended up staying in some quaint [ little vacation cabins ](http://www.spruceacrecabins.com/) on the edge of town. The next morning, Kurt had thirty-one brochures strewn across the tiny table in front of him as he examined the thirty-second.

Blaine sat across from him, nudging papers aside so he could make a space to rest his coffee mug. “Have you found the perfect Alaskan experience?” he asked.

“At least half of these are duplicating the other half,” Kurt explained with a sweeping gesture. “But yes, I’ve narrowed it down.”

“And the verdict is?” Blaine took a sip and watched Kurt with affectionate amusement in his twinkling eyes. Alaska was the last place he had ever imagined his husband wanting to visit. Everything here seemed to revolve around big beards, casual clothing, and informality. In other words, everything that was the opposite of Kurt.

“Well, we need to go on a bear viewing flight,” Kurt waved one brochure at him.

“Bears?” Blaine’s eyebrows lifted a bit.

“Yes, from an airplane, it’s perfectly safe,” Kurt assured him. “And we need to go fishing.”

“Fishing?” Blaine asked, eyebrows nearly pushed into his hairline.

“Yes!” Kurt continued excitedly. “Salmon is so healthy, and the wild-caught Alaska salmon is supposed to be the best! We’ve got to try it fresh from the source! Our little cabin here has a kitchenette, and it will save us so much money compared to going to one of those seafood places.” He glared at one of the brochures. “They are outrageously expensive. I didn’t think I could get sticker shock after having lived in New York, but this is unreal.”

Blaine pursed his lips and stared into his mug. “I know we agreed that we wanted to do authentic local things in each place we visit, but are you sure you want to _go fishing_?”

Kurt stuck out his tongue. “Of course I’m sure.”

“It will involve dead fish, Kurt.”

“I’m aware.”

“It will involve slippery, live fish that we have to kill and then cut open and…”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “What, you mean they don’t come out of the water already filleted and ready to cook? I’m shocked!”

Blaine chuckled. “Alright then, fishing it is.”

“And a bear viewing flight!” Kurt added excitedly. “I already called and scheduled it. We leave in an hour!”

 

* * *

 

“Kurt,” Blaine hissed not quite an hour later. “Look!”

“What, I thought you were going to take our things out to the car?” Kurt glanced up from where he was finishing with the dishes. “We’re going to miss our reservation.”

“I can’t go to the car,” Blaine croaked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Look!” Blaine repeated, pointing out the front window. Kurt set down the dish he was working on and stepped over to the window, drying his hands on a towel as he walked. As he reached it his face blanched and he gulped.

“That’s a moose.”

“I know,” Blaine nodded. “I never realized they were quite that big though.”

“It’s between us and the car.”

“I know,” Blaine repeated. “I don’t think I should go out there. I thought the elk at Grand Canyon was big, but this thing is enormous! I know moose are herbivores, but what if it gets angry? Or if I startle it? What if it steps on me?!”

Kurt nodded slowly, his eyes glued on the enormous ungulate grazing mere feet from their front door.

“Can we call the bear viewing people and see about a later flight?”

Kurt’s gaze didn’t shift, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

 

* * *

 

“Two tickets for the two pm bear viewing flight,” Kurt announced at the counter. “We were supposed to be on the ten am flight but we, uh, got held up.”

“You were the moose delay people,” the lady said.

“Yes,” Kurt admitted.

She flashed a quick smile. “Don’t worry; it happens all the time.”

“Moose delays?” Blaine asked.

“Yep!” She tapped a few keys on her computer. “Anyway, Phil already has a group of three on this flight, so that’ll make a full plane.” She struck a key with a flourish. “Perfect!”

“The plane only holds five people?” Blaine asked.

“Six, including the pilot,” she nodded. “Now, I’ll need you to step on that scale there with whatever gear you want to bring, and tell me the number.

“What?” Kurt asked in surprise.

“Or you can just tell me your weight, if you prefer.” She shrugged.

“My weight?” Blaine echoed.

“The plane can only carry sixteen hundred pounds. We have to take the weight of every passenger and all the gear to make sure we stay under the limit. Otherwise you won’t be flying very far!” She laughed at her own joke, and looked pointedly at the scale in the corner as she poised her finger over the keyboard. “So?”

 

* * *

 

“Y’ever been on one a these before?” Phil asked as he walked the little group out to the plane.

“Nope.” Blaine smiled. Phil’s facial hair was large and somewhat distracting. Blaine couldn’t actually see his mouth in there, which gave off the vague impression that the beard itself was doing the talking.

“Alrighty then,” Phil grinned. “Basically it’s like any other plane. Wear your seatbelt while we’re moving, don’t stick your hand out the window, and don’t touch any of the controls while we’re in flight.”

“Controls?” Kurt blinked.

“Yeah, one of you will be riding shotgun, but don’t you worry. I’ll do the flying; you just do the lookin’, ok?” Phil grabbed a handle, wiggled it a few times, and heaved the door open. “Watch yer heads!” he announced, gesturing inside.

The plane was unlike anything they had ever seen. There was no interior finishing: just thin metal walls with visible bolts and seams everywhere. There was a slight odor of dirt and oil in the cabin—--a similar odor to the pilot himself actually. The plane didn’t look dirty, exactly… It was just...well-used. One of the seat cushions had been mended with large, uneven stitches; the rubber floor mats rolled up at the edges; and a distressingly long line of duct tape ran along the ceiling. Kurt wondered when was the last time this plane had passed any kind of inspection.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Blaine whispered.

“Yes, I’m sure!” Kurt hissed, although he was beginning to feel not at all sure.

The noise and shaking when the engine started left Kurt feeling like he was sitting in a blender rather than an airplane. Thankfully nothing seemed to fall apart, but--

“I’m sorry,” Kurt yelled into the front as the plane began to taxi out to the runway. “I think I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

Blaine was sitting in the front, but he heard his husband’s distressed voice and tapped Phil on the shoulder.

“Yeah?” Phil pulled the headset off one of his ears.

“Excuse me,” Blaine explained, “but I think we’d like to get off.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m sort of embarrassed,” Kurt admitted as they drove back to their cabin.

“Don’t be,” Blaine consoled him.

“I mean, I was the one who pushed to do it, but that plane, Blaine! I couldn’t fly in that thing!”

“I was relieved, actually.”

Kurt glance over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I was nervous when you first brought it up, and utterly terrified when we actually saw the plane. I didn’t want to hold you back from something you wanted to do, but I am _so_ glad you decided to back out.” He reached across the center console and squeezed Kurt’s knee.

Kurt’s lips squeezed tighter for a moment before he let out the laugh.

“We are such idiots,” he declared as he parked the car and climbed out.

Blaine tried to not look offended as they walked into the cabin.

Kurt shut the door behind them and then looked at his husband sternly. “If you don’t like my ideas, _say something_ ok?”

Blaine grinned. “Ok.”

“So what should we do tonight then, since bears are off the schedule?”

“There’s a [ farmer’s market ](http://www.homerfarmersmarket.org/) that’s really popular,” Blaine offered with a glance at the brochures still scattered across the table. “But it doesn’t open for a couple more hours.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Kurt nodded, hanging his jacket over the chair. “Well while we’re waiting, there’s a bed right here, and it looks lonely…”

“So lonely,” Blaine agreed, pushing Kurt onto it and kissing him as they both laughed.

 

* * *

 

The next day--after multiple reassurances from Blaine that he really was fine with the idea of fishing--the two men arrived at a secluded little gravel road that bordered a wide river.

“I hadn’t realized this would involve so much paraphernalia,” Kurt admitted to his husband as they pulled item after item out of the back of their car and headed to the water. “I’m glad we were able to rent it rather than have to buy it all. Still, this may not be cheaper than eating at _[ Land’s End ](http://www.lands-end-resort.com/dining/restaurant.php) _ after all.”

“Well, not everyone wears chest waders, but I do think it’s a good idea. The guy at the store said that the banks can be very muddy, even if you don’t go far into the water,” Blaine shrugged. “C’mon, we’re here now; help me get these on.”

They both pulled on their waders (“These are so shapeless and ugly,” Kurt noted. “It’s better than wading into a river in Marc Jacobs,” Blaine reminded him.)

Setting up the fishing poles wasn’t so bad. Kurt had watched his dad do it a few times before, and years of sewing had made his fingers adept at tiny knots. Once it came time to actually cast the lure into the river though, he started to struggle. Ironically—and somewhat to Kurt’s dismay—Blaine took to fishing easily, in spite of never having done it before.

“Look, Kurt!” he exclaimed, swinging his pole and watching the weighted end fly through the air before hitting the water.

“Yeah,” Kurt muttered, trying to disentangle his line from a nearby bush where it had snagged.

“Whoa, did you see that?”

“What?” Kurt looked up to see Blaine staring down at his own feet, completely ignoring his taut line downstream.

“That fish was huge!”

“I told you, best salmon fishing in the world!” Kurt repeated proudly as he collected his gear and waded out next to his husband, only moderately unsettled by the knowledge that large, slimy fish could touch him at any moment.

“I know, but I never imagined that they would swim right next to my feet!”

“They’re going to spawn, Blaine,” Kurt said flirtatiously. “That’s a pretty good reason to be in a hurry, don’t you think?”

“I might want to take my time…” Blaine murmured back, looking him right in the eye.

“That can be nice too,” Kurt winked.

“No, I mean, don’t salmon die after they spawn? They don’t go back out to the ocean, they only come in.”

“Oh,” Kurt cleared his throat. “That was _so_ not where I thought you were going with that.”

Blaine nudged Kurt with his shoulder and returned his focus to his fishing pole.

Wobbling between the nudge and the current (which was surprisingly strong even this close to the bank) Kurt exclaimed, “If you knock me into this river, Anderson, I will not sleep with you for a week!”

“I doubt it!” Blaine grinned, but he took a step to the side anyway, just in case.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later they had no fish to show for their efforts, and Kurt had given up and decided to sit on a blanket on the shore and just watch the scenery instead.

Eventually Blaine joined him. “Do you think we just came to the wrong part of the river?” he asked. “I mean, there are fish everywhere, but none of them are biting.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt mused. “Maybe we should try downstream a bit? The guy at the store said that the mouth of the river gets really busy which is why we came here, but maybe it’s busy because it’s the better place to fish?”

Blaine shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

After a short drive, they found an [ entire beach area packed with people ](http://www.adfg.alaska.gov/static/fishing/images/personal-use/byarea/southcentral/kasilof/main.jpg), both on the shore and in the water. A long row of people stood in the water, nearly shoulder to shoulder, trying to catch fish. Frequently someone left the line to bring their shiny, flopping catch out of the water, gutting the fish right there on the beach and dropping the unwanted portions onto the sand or into the water as they set the headless salmon into coolers. Children ran back and forth, playing in the waves or throwing balls. Tents and trailers littered the beach and the grass beyond, and vehicles were parked every which where they could squeeze in.

“Look at all these people,” Blaine said. “It must be the good spot.”

“It’s a little gruesome,” Kurt noted, pointing to a pile of fish heads and entrails with more than a dozen seagulls picking across it. “This beach looks like a battlefield. I think I may be losing my appetite…”

“They aren’t fishing with poles, either” he noticed. “Look.” Kurt gestured to a [ man wading out of the water with an enormous net with a fish flopping in it ](http://www.adn.com/sites/default/files/styles/ad_slideshow_normal/public/kenai%20dipnetting%202013%20-02.jpg?itok=gqFXlcSa). The net part was several feet across, and the handle was a metal pole at least ten feet long. “What on earth is that?”

“Let’s ask someone,” Blaine said cheerfully, turning to a sun-weathered woman who sat near them on a camp chair, knitting and taking occasional swigs from a beer bottle before returning it to an ice-filled cooler in easy reach. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Yeah?” She squinted up at him.

“What are those big nets?”

“Ain’t you never seen a dipnet before?” she asked incredulously. “You kids must be from outside.”

“Pardon?” Kurt asked.

“You know, down south,” she clarified. They both stared in confusion.

“Washington and California and all them states,” she explained with a vague wave of her hand. They finally nodded in the realization that Alaskans apparently referred to the entire lower forty-eight as ‘down south.’

“Anyway, state residents can use nets to catch fish, since a lot of us rely on fishing to feed our families.”

“Oh,” Blaine said. “Thank you.”

“No problem!” she grinned as she turned back to her knitting.

“I don’t think I want to brave this beach,” Kurt admitted to Blaine as he looked across the carnage and chaos between them and the water.

“But you really wanted to catch a fish,” Blaine reminded him.

“I know, but maybe just going fishing is enough. Now that I’m looking dead fish in the face,” he glanced pointedly at a fish head laying in the sand just a few feet away, “I think I’m ok with not actually having to kill and carve up the thing myself.”

Blaine chuckled. “It’s late anyway; let’s head back?”

They were just about to pull out onto the main road when the saw the large, dark shape lumbering in the brush next to them.

Kurt squeaked and Blaine slammed on the breaks.

“Is that?” Blaine asked.

Kurt sat frozen with wide eyes before whispering, “yeah, I think it is.”

“Wow.”

Kurt just nodded.

“All that hassle with the plane, and all we needed to do to see a bear was drive down the highway.”

 

* * *

 

They spent their last day in Homer doing the one thing that they felt sure could not result in any surprises: shopping along [ The Spit ](http://www.alaska.org/detail/the-homer-spit). It was a long, narrow jut of land lined with shops and eateries, and was crowded and sandy with a faint smell of seafood clinging to everything; but everyone was friendly, and it was a welcome change of pace from their adventures of the last two days. The young husbands were able to find a few memorable souvenirs to take back to New York with them, and that night they sat contentedly on their little porch watching the sea.

“Well, we’ve pretty well seen this continent,” Kurt said contentedly. “They call this town ‘the end of the road,’ so I guess it’s a fitting ending for an epic road trip, right?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean maybe?” Kurt lifted up onto his elbow to peer at his husband in the dim light.

“Well, we may have covered this continent, but there are six others…”

Kurt shoved him playfully before standing up and stretching. “We should go in and get to bed. It’s probably at least eleven by now.”

Blaine glanced at his watch. “Actually, it’s almost one.”

“What? It doesn’t feel that late! It’s not even dark!”

“I guess that’s why they call it the land of the midnight sun.”

“I guess so!” Kurt held out his hand to Blaine, who took it and happily followed him inside.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I took a few artistic liberties with some of the details (such as using OCs instead of real people for Klaine to interact with), but I did not exaggerate! Bear viewing tours are run with better-kept planes, but for actual travel to bush communities the planes are more like what I described. The photos shown are ones I have taken here.
> 
> The Spruce Acre Cabins (where they stayed) don’t have kitchenettes, but they do have a very kind owner who once returned my wedding ring to me when I lost it on the beach. Moose delays and the carnage of dipnetting season are both things I’ve experienced personally, as are the little details like losing track of time because it’s light all night, or the fact that Alaskans have their own terminology for everything.


End file.
